By Bridgette Doucet (Jr., Canyon del Oro)
“Five minutes to the gun!”
My heartbeat automatically revs up; pulsing loudly in my ears like a suspenseful drumbeat- It’s time. It’s time. It’s time. My fingers flex as I watch the teams around me complete their pre-race rituals- one last strideout, the final team chant, or even that third knot in the shoelace, just in case. Then- “Everyone on the line!” Muscles taut; elbows bent. Flags up. Breath still. BANG! Hundreds of girls streaming past the starting line, already vying for position and setting paces, weaving past competitors and avoiding obstacles.
And wouldn’t you know it; in all of the excitement I forgot to start my watch-
“Hey, Bridgette! Why aren’t you out there?”
I glance up from the digital zeroes blinking at me like confused eyes to meet an equally confused expression. “Oh, me? I’m recovering.”
“Oh. Okay! Get well soon!” I nod my thanks as they turn away to catch up to the racers. It’s not the first concerned quandary I’ve answered today, and it won’t be the last. After all, it’s the first meet of the season and I’m sporting a floppy hat and jeans instead of my cross country uniform and running shoes. Today is one of the hardest races of my life; ironic considering I’m not actually competing. There’s a good reason for it, but it’s a long, hard story that I don’t tell too often. In fact, I hadn’t let my whole team know until a few weeks before the meet.
***
My journey begins in the pediatrician’s office, sitting on that classic crinkly paper and absentmindedly swinging my legs (because yes, I’m short enough that my feet still don’t touch the ground on those examining benches).
“Your weight is still below the average. Eat more, exercise less.” Two things I must point out: one, the pediatrician said much more than just that, but that was what our conversations had been boiling down to over the past few months. And two, I’m fully aware of the oddness of that suggestion. But my life is odd, so let’s just move on.
Since I’d been experiencing amenorrhea (a nifty little term that means I hadn’t had my period in a long while- not so nifty), and wasn’t really gaining at all, it was time to move on to more difficult questions.
“Are you pregnant?” My mom raised her eyebrow at this, like, does she look like it?
“Nope.”
“Are you abusing any drugs?”
“No, ma’am.” I resisted the urge to say, the only thing I’m high off of is life! Because it was a serious question, you know.
“Well, other than what I’ve already mentioned, you’re normal.”
“O…kay.” Totally helpful, right?
“So what do you suggest?” My mom was a little incredulous by this time.
“How about talking to a therapist?”
Which is what I did, despite my teenaged instincts to run as far away as possible from a stranger with a notepad whose favorite phrase is “and how does that make you feel?” And surprise! Here comes a diagnosis: anorexia nervosa. Life just got complicated.
***
Now, before I continue, let me just say that, yes, I understand that this is a serious disease. I’m not trying to make light of it because I’m in denial or insensitive to how much it can destroy someone. Anorexia is… complicated. And recovering from it involves so, so much more than just the “eat more, exercise less” plan, sorry to say. On a good day, I can stay pretty content about myself and my body image and all that jazz. On a bad day, let’s just say that life feels like a continuous hill workout with no recovery. But because I’ve been able to come so far from the support from my family, friends, team, and God, I don’t have to be “doom and gloom” about it. I don’t want anyone’s pity, either, please; that’s not the purpose of sharing my story. I want people to know that although it’s still a struggle, it’s not insurmountable, and that it’s something that I want to get through with good old fashioned encouragement, not sadness and bitterness.
So, long story a little shorter, it was time to get a hold of this eating disorder before it got too much of a hold on me. That meant lots of therapy, along with meeting with a nutritionist. Things were going fine, more or less. I even went to an outpatient program to get some further healing. But then junior year came, and things got messy again. I was falling behind on my health, and I couldn’t seem to get out of a discouraging mental rut. So, just before the season got into full swing, my parents and I made the decision to sit the season out, and see where I was when track approached. It was hard. I cried my eyes out when talking to my team. But life went on. I got to be the manager, which was really inspiring and helped me experience the season in a new way while not losing touch with my team. Now that track has arrived, I’ve got the go ahead to start competing, and I’m headed for State, provided that I can keep myself healthy. It’s not going to be easy, but hey, neither is distance running, and that doesn’t mean I’ll stop running the 3200!
Again, this isn’t meant for anyone to feel terrible about my poor unfortunate plight, or freaked out, or angry at my doctor, or whatever. It’s just something real that I’ve been going through for a while, and I believe that God put it on my heart to share. We’ve all got our struggles; there’s stuff that comes our way without warning and messes with our heads. But we don’t have to quit. We don’t have to feel isolated, or hopeless. There are people all around us who are ready to lend a helping hand, to comfort us and cheer us on and never give up on us. I don’t think I was able to fully realize that before, but I can now, and I’m glad that I finally did. My life isn’t going to get miraculously easier, and my eating disorder isn’t going to disappear overnight (although hey, I wouldn’t complain if it did!) But God will still be with me every step of the way, and He will continue to place supportive people in my life to remind me to keep on keeping on. After all; my race isn’t over until I cross that final finish line! As it says in 1 Corinthians 9:24,”Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.” In other words, as my coach would never let us forget: Whatever Happens, Never Settle.
Thank you.